


You know what, scratch heating blankets

by Lequia



Series: Insomnia [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awesome Pepper Potts, Cold Weather, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt/Comfort, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Platonic Cuddling, Precious Peter Parker, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 08:12:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17097065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lequia/pseuds/Lequia
Summary: In which Peter Parker does something even he considers to be stupid, Tony Stark turns into a giant pillow, and Pepper Potts is, well, Pepper.





	You know what, scratch heating blankets

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't remember whether this was supposed to be angst or fluff so I did both.

"Dude, I'm serious, could you stop?"

Peter hummed in response, muttering a quick apology before trying to finally keep his jumping leg still, listening to their biology teacher explaining something for the fifth time. His whole body was way too hyper, the need to move nearly making him go insane.

The sound of his pencil hitting the desk over and over again filled the classroom as he started to fidget with it in order to distract himself.

"Peter!"

"Hm?"

Ned looked at him like he was two seconds away from skinning him alive, which was a rather rare sight considering that his best friend was usually on the chill side. "Sorry," the teen muttered, letting the pencil go, flinching at the sound it made as it hit the desk one last time. "I just want school to be over."

"So you can spend the weekend at the Tower?" Peter's ears grew red at that, a small smile tugging at his lips because, _yes,_ he got to spend the whole darn weekend at Mr. Stark's which was _insane._ Aunt May was asked to represent the company she was working at at a meeting in Florida and she couldn't decline even if she wanted to, and Peter was, well, 15 after all so he needed someone to look after him.

Aunt May's words, not his.

In addition, Ned's family had visitors from down south and their flat wasn't big enough to house Peter for the weekend, too, which was why his aunt ended up calling his mentor to fulfill the duty of babysitting him. It was slightly embarrassing but hey, fun weekend at Stark Tower, who was he to complain?

At least he had high hopes that it would be a fun weekend at Stark Tower. All the odds played in his favour, though. He knew that Mr. Stark had nothing important to do, otherwise the man wouldn't have agreed to Aunt May to let him stay overnight, plus it was the middle of december, also known as the best month of the whole year, not to forget to mention that it snowed for the first time a day ago.

His leg started to jump up and down again. 

"No, I'm just, you know, ready for a few days off."

"Yeah, and I'm George Washington, looser."

They both turned around in surprise just to be met with MJ's smug smirk. "Where the heck did you come from?" Peter asked, pretty sure that the table behind them was _empty_ five minutes ago.

"None of your business. Now, back to you spending the weekend at your _boss's_ place," she said whilst propping her head up on her palm. "I'm not sure it'll be a pleasant one."

Peter furrowed his brows in confusion, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "And why would you say that?"

MJ didn't answer, instead pulling out a newspaper article and throwing it at him before standing up and quietly leaving the classroom, muttering a quick: "Good luck, looser."

Ned and Peter continue to stare at the door as she vanished, faces displaying their trademark expression of shock and utter disbelief whenever MJ took a leave like that.

"She's getting better at sneaking up on us, man." His best friend raked a hand through his hair, turning back towards their teacher rambling on about something microbiology related as Peter followed suit, newspaper still sprawled against his chest.

He only managed to give a small nod in response, fingers already unfolding the paper, looking through the pages in order to find what MJ was talking about. It didn't take him long, though, as a big picture of Mr. Stark was plastered on the front page, followed by a smaller one that looked like his father, Howard Stark.

"Oh, shit," he mumbled, eyes skimming over the article whilst his heart squeezed painfully in his chest.

_Today we're remembering one of the most famous and admired scientists to ever exist. Howard Stark and his wife, Maria Stark, died in a car crash on December 16th, 1991._

Peter risked a look at his phone, swallowing as he took in the date it showed him, sighing as the sadly familar numbers stung in his eyes. Ned leaned against his shoulder, a quiet gasp leaving his mouth. "Oh damn, Peter, you sure you're spending the weekend at Stark's?"

"I can't really go anywhere else, man," Peter said whilst shrugging. Surely Aunt May sorted it out, right? Maybe Mr. Stark needed a distraction anyways and that's why he said yes. Yeah, that was probably it, and if Peter was good at something it was distracting people. Including himself. And the occasional criminal. His mind settled at that and he tried to focus on the biology lesson without getting too bored, nearly forgetting all about the significance of the day right until the end of school.

Peter quickly jumped down the stairs after his last period and said goodbye to Ned, already looking around for the familiar orange Audi. Which wasn't there. Usually that wasn't something to worry about; Mr. Stark simply didn't have the time to pick him up every single Friday so sometimes that duty would be left to Happy.

Problem was, there was no sleek, black car either.

The teen muttered a few words his mentor would have his head for or at least give him a warning glance as he stood in front of his school on a cold December afternoon, a big duffel bag with his clothes for the weekend on his shoulder.

Well, taking the subway it was, or at least that's what Peter thought before remembering that Flash stole his wallet _again_ that morning which meant that he had no money nor his student MetroCard.

If Mr. Stark would've already chastised him for the words he uttered earlier, he would've definitely washed his mouth with some strong soap for the ones he let passed his lips after realising that he probably had to _walk_ to Manhattan because Aunt May didn't allow him

to go out as Spider-Man whilst she wasn't in NYC so he didn't have his suit with him like he usually did.

Great. This was just fantastic. Parker luck striked again. But hey, which teen wouldn't want to walk a grand total of four hours on a freezing Friday afternoon? Calling Mr. Stark was completely out of the picture; the poor man definitely had enough things to worry about and Peter didn't want to be even more of a burden than he already was. Happy was another option, but calling Happy meant alerting Mr. Stark and, again, he didn't want that.

So there he went, an itsy bitsy spider starting his long walk through the great apple, duffle bag thrown over his shoulder and hands buried in his pockets in order to prevent them from actually freezing.

Peter put on some music, bobbing his head up and down to the beat as he set one foot ahead of the other, his leasure pace turning into speed walking in a matter of 20 freezing minutes, nose red and running, face as cold as ice. This was such a bad idea even the teen knew it was a bad idea. And that was saying something.

Nevertheless, he moved on, only ever stopping at traffic lights, taking a good look around the city whilst he was at it, trying to enjoy the walk at least a little bit.

It started to snow around the two hour mark, turning into a mini storm after another thirty or so minutes, and Peter was pretty sure he was either going to freeze like Anna did in _Frozen_ or die. Which was a stupid either or because freezing does kinda implicate dying as well but hey, Han Solo survived it, too.

His teeth were chattering from the cold, his lips long since a blue-ish colour, eyes watering with every single step. He wasn't able to move his fingers anymore but he wasn't too worried about that, they looked a little red but seemed fine otherwise as he buried them back into his pockets, letting his whole body shiver in order to produce some heat.

The shivering stopped at around three and a half hours of walking, but Peter could already see the Tower and he wasn't even that cold anymore, so maybe it was alright? His brain felt rather sleepy, if he was being honest, and there were a few dark spots dancing around in his vision, but that was probably normal after a nearly four hour long walk in December, right? Right.

It was only when he stood right in front of the Tower that he realised that he had no clue whatsoever how he was supposed to get to Mr. Stark's workshop or penthouse _without_ Mr. Stark. Thing was, they always entered the building through the garage and Peter has actually never been to the public entrance but hey, it was worth a shot. At least that's what his overly tired brain told him as he wobbled his way to the giant doors, sighing in relief as the warmth of the lobby hit his face.

Gosh, it really was cold outside

"Excuse me, can I help you?"

He jumped at the high pitched voice, frantically looking around before laying his eyes on a brunette lady seated at something that looked like a reception or info point, a polite but wary smile on her face.

"Uhm," he muttered, taking in his surroundings. "I- I have an appointment with, uh, Tony Stark?" There were a few baffle gates to his right that looked more high tech than Peter's suit, his jaw dropping as he looked up at the highest ceiling he has ever seen in his entire life made out of some kind of stone and glass.

He was in heaven. No, seriously, he must've frozen to death on the streets because this? This was beautiful. There were actual _plants_ hanging around, giving the whole lobby a surreal feeling of beauty. If this room already looked like this, the penthouse must be spectacular and Peter couldn't wait to finally have a look at it because he has only ever been in Mr. Stark's private workshop. Don't get him wrong, though, the workshop was a sight for itself and his little nerdy heart nearly beat out of his chest every time he was allowed to be there, but still.

A weird shudder ran through his body, causing him to stiffle a yelp in surprise at the uncomfortable feeling, sweat forming on his cold forehead.

"A meeting with Tony Stark?" she asked, her tone implicating that she didn't exactly believe him. Huh, well, who could blame her? He probably looked hella suspicious with his black duffel bag. Peter rolled his eyes at himself, wanting to facepalm for being such an idiot.

Why didn't he just go back to his own apartment again?

"Uh, y-yeah. Just ask," he was interrupted by a violent cough that ripped through his throat, the burning sensation causing his eyes to water. "FRIDAY. Ask FRIDAY."

She looked at him like he's grown a second head. "His AI?", he answered, hoping that FRIDAY was not only Mr. Stark's private AI but also managing the whole building.

The woman didn't have to say another word as a robotic voice cut through the air. "Mr. Stark is only to be disturbed in case of an emergency."

It was weird, though, because the response didn't sound like FRIDAY at all, more like an automatically generated response. Oh man, he honestly wanted to sit down in the middle of the lobby and do a mini strike by himself until somebody kicked him out, preferably alerting Mr. Stark in the process so he could finally lie down and _sleep._ He pushed the sudden overwhelming dizziness to the back of his mind, swaying on his feet for a second before getting a grip on himself again.

"There m- must be a mistake, then."

"I'm sorry, Sir, but there most certainly isn't a mistake." That was the only warning he got before his spider sense went off, screaming at him to get the heck outta there right before four men in expensive suits entered the lobby, looking suspiciously like security.

Oh no. Ohhhh, no, please, _no._

One of the men locked eyes with him, pointing into his direction. And that was Peter's cue to run for his dear life.

His day really couldn't get any worse, could it?

Peter quickly jumped over the gates, an incredibly loud and shrill alarm going off, followed by red blinking lights making him even more anxious than he already was as he ran around the next corner, clueless and tired and still about to freeze, his legs not moving fast enough

Several footsteps were right behind him, shouting at him to stop and surrender as he panted, panic filling his chest because he _shouldn't be out of breath yet._

His sight got blurrier by the second, pain shooting through his skull, hitting full force, Peter steadying himself at a wall, the cold stone making him shiver again as he shook his head. There was no way on earth for him to outrun them like he'd usually do, his chest heaving painfully with every breath he took, lungs wheezing at the effort, sweat running down his face even though he was so damn _cold._

The voices were growing louder and louder, the teen gritting his teeth as he started to run again, looking for something, anything, to hide behind.

"Third door to the left, Peter."

Peter nearly cried in relief as FRIDAY's familiar voice rang in his ears, literally falling into a storage room whilst slamming the door shut behind him, landing face first in a pile of old wires. He stayed as still as possible, listening for the voices to run passed him, sighing as he couldn't hear them anymore and letting his alert body collapse on the floor.

"Holy _crap,"_ he muttered, his raspy voice breaking as he lay there, face practically buried in cables. "What was that?"

"That was you being chased by security," the AI answered, causing him to belt a laugh which ended in another cruel cough. The teen turned onto his back, staring up at the ceiling and making a heart sign with his shaking fingers. "Fri, you are the best. Could you _please_ alert Mr. Stark and tell him to come and get me? I don't think I want to repeat that."

He carefully got to his feet, squinting his eyes shut as another wave of dizziness hit him, cringing as he felt his soaked shirt slide against his sensitive skin beneath his jacket as he moved.

"I'm sorry, Peter, but Boss is only to be disturbed in case of an emergency."

Peter nearly groaned, forehead leaning against the cool door. "And me being chased by security doesn't count as an emergency?"

"Considering that that particular scenario is rather common, no, it doesn't."

The teen rolled his eyes at that, straightening his aching back whilst blowing hot air onto his fingers. "However," she continued, "I can show you the way to the penthouse."

His gratitude quickly vanished as the AI showed him a hidden staircase behind a shelf, every fibre in his body protesting against what he was about to do.

"You're kidding, right?"

She wasn't.

Peter was panting again as he took one stair at a time, his hands practically glued to the handrail in order to keep himself upright, a small cry leaving his mouth as he saw the number of the floor he was currently on, his duffel bag long since thrown into a corner because there was no way to carry that heavy thing up, too.

_72\. He climbed 72 friggin stories._

Which meant that he had 9 more to go in order to reach the penthouse. He stopped for a second, letting his abused body slide down the wall, heart fluttering abnormally in his chest. His clothes were completely and utterly drenched in his sweat, cooling him down even though that was the very last thing he wanted after walking for four hours in the snow and getting to freeze every single body part there was in a human being. Also, Mr. Stark apparently didn't heat up his staircases.

"Your heartbeat is frantic, Peter, and you look rather pale. Would you like me to scan you for any illnesses?"

The teen shook his head no, mouth opened wide in order to get as much precious oxygen into his lungs as possible. "Just- just gimme a few- I need a short... break. Yeah?"

He wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, slumping against the wall once more, not caring that he would probably leave a wet puddle of sweat behind. "Why can't I take the elevator again?"

"Because you don't have a security clearance yet and entering the elevator would trigger the alarm," she said, and Peter was pretty sure that he could hear actual pity in her voice.

"Boss wanted to give it to you next weekend where you're supposed to stay over."

Wait, _what?_

He managed a weak chuckle, head lolling to the side, eyes squeezed shut in pain as he tried to move his burning legs in order to make sure that they're still there because he sure as hell couldn't tell. "No, s'wrong. I was supposed to stay over _this_ weekend, Fri."

The teen fought to open his eyelids, looking at the ceiling as he thought. "Besides, next weekend is christmas."

"Exactly. Boss has been decorating the penthouse in Spider-Man themed colours."

And just like that, Peter's heart skipped a beat as his chest filled with metaphorical warmth. Mr. Stark thought he'd spend christmas at the Tower? Nay, Mr. Stark thought Aunt May asked him to look after a snotty teen on _christmas_ and he actually agreed? His cheeks got damp at that thought and he quickly wiped the few escaped tears away as he fought himself onto his feet again.

Nine more stories, Parker, only nine more.

He felt miserable as he stuck his hands onto the railing again, gritting his teeth as he set one foot in front of the other, hot pain shooting up his otherwise numb legs. His skin was as pale as extra white paper, cold and sick looking but he didn't care because he nearly made it.

The moment he reached the final door was a moment he would remember for the rest of his life, knees wobbling as he pushed it open to the praise of FRIDAY, stumbling into a spacious living room area with a panorama floor to ceiling window just like in the workshop, minus the screwdrivers scattered all around.

The teen froze as he heard more footsteps, eyes comically widened as a woman with strawberry blonde hair rounded a corner.

"FRIDAY? What is going on?" she asked, crossing the living room in order to stand a few feet away from him, taking his appearance in with a worried gaze. Focusing on her face turned out to be rather difficult as the black spots in the corner of his vision got bigger and bigger, a cheeping sound in his ears suppressing everything else. He was on the verge of panicking as he saw her mouth moving as if she were talking to him, but no matter how hard he tried to, _he couldn't hear her._

Another wave of dizziness hit him, causing him to stumble forward as everything turned black, a numb feeling spreading all over him as he fell.

 

* * *

 

“You got him?"

"Yeah, kid's a lightweight, Pep."

"Oh god, he looks like he's barely alive."

“Well, he's a tough one. Kid pulls shit like this off all the time."

"He isn't the only one."

"Hey! You're my fianceé, you're supposed to be on my side."

"I'm only supposed to be on your side for, like, 12%. FRIDAY, you sure he’s going to be alright?

"Of course, Mrs. Stark."

“Hey, don't get mad. I'll tell her to stop.”

“I hope so. Careful, Tony, don’t hit his head.”

“I’m trying not to. There ya go, Petey.”

 

* * *

 

Peter grumbled in pain as he came back to the land of the living, his hand immediately shooting up to cover his eyes. He felt awful, his throat burned like it was on fire every time he tried to swallow, tears gathering in his eyes as he felt something rubbing against his way too sensitive skin.

He gently tried to pry his eyes open, his lids refusing to cooperate at first, his sight blurry as he blinked, staring at an unfamiliar ceiling.

The teen's other senses started to come back, too, the unknown scents making his head spin like crazy, a miserable whimper leaving him as he pushed himself up, hot pain shooting through his whole body at the motion.

Dying sounded pretty good. Calm. Peaceful. No pain. He would've done everything just so he wouldn't feel the pain

Getting his movements under control was rather tricky, his limbs sloppy and uncoordinated as he attempted to swing his legs over the bed he was lying in, nearly bursting into tears as he got tangled in the sheets.

He hasn't felt this fussy in, like, forever.

The door creaked open and Peter's whole body flinched as he tried to focus, a fuzzy and dark shape pausing in the doorway before coming closer, the teen instinctively scrambling backwards until he caught a familiar smell.

Expensive cologne, motor oil, an unusual hint of whisky. His eyes widened in realisation, his heartbeat slowing down a noch as a wave of relief washed over him.

“Hey there, kid, how do you feel?"

"Did I get run over by a bulldozer?" Peter asked, letting his chin rest against his chest. "Cause that's exactly how I feel right now."

He tried to tug at the blankets again, growing frantic as he couldn't detangle himself before giving up, huffing in frustration with tears in his eyes. It took him by surprise as Mr. Stark carefully pried the sheets off him, the teen sighing as that thing was finally gone.

Peter looked around, then, taking in the room he was in. It was bigger than his own room in his and May's apartment, but it wasn't too big to make him feel intimidated. He couldn't help but notice the decor, his eyes widening at the realisation that this was a room specifically designed for him.

"Mild hypothermia, strained muscles in your thighs and lower legs followed by a nice fever," Mr. Stark said, thankfully keeping his voice soft, obviously aware that Peter was in no condition to be screamed at. "Care to explain why you're here in the first place?"

"Uh, well," Peter scratched the back of his head, looking sheepish. "Aunt May is on that business trip, remember?"

Honestly, the facial expression his mentor made would've been a whole lot funnier if Peter's head wasn't on the verge of killing him; it was the epidome of _oh, shit._

"That's this weekend? But I thought- "

"I'd stay for christmas?"

Mr. Stark nodded at that and if Peter didn't know better, he could've sworn that his cheeks turned a rosy colour. "Sorry, Pete, it's been a tough week and your aunt really did call in a rush- "

"Nah, no worries, Mr. Stark, I'm fine."

He immediately regretted saying that as his mentor's eyes snapped back at him, the teen quickly searching for a distraction. "Besides, I'm sure Aunt May and I can come over for christmas anyways."

Peter froze, heart pounding heavily in his chest, head hung low, not daring to look Mr. Stark in the eye as he shivered again, his skin and bones still remembering the cold. 

"That'd be nice, Underoos."

They both looked anywhere but eachother, silence filling the room that was apparently supposed to be Peter's before his mentor loudly clapped his hands together, shooing away the awkwardness. "So, we better get going, Pepper made you some soup."

"Wait, Pepper?"

But Mr. Stark didn't need to answer because his memories came back like a punch in the face, Peter's cheeks turning bright red as he remembered the strawberry blonde woman from before and what he did, as in, how he completely threw his dignity over board.

"Oh holy shit, Mr. Stark, please tell me that didn't happen. _Please."_

The teen couldn't help but whine in frustration as he saw his mentor's shit eating grin, wanting to bury his head in a pillow and to never come out again.

He wanted to die. Nay, he wanted to evaporate. To cease to exist in the blink of an eye, if that was an option.

"Calm down, Pete, it's fine. She's my fiancée, she's seen some weird stuff."

"I _fainted."_

"I'm sure she's flattered."

"But- but that's so embarrassing! Mr. Stark, do something."

He has been dying to meet Miss Potts ever since he started working with Mr. Stark, even though she seemed slightly scary with her fancy suits and tight lipped smiles. But MJ was a big fan and Peter had to admit that he, too, admired her for being the fiercest woman to walk the earth. Right after Aunt May, of course. And what did he do? He made an utter fool out of himself.

Peter swayed at that thought, thankful for his mentor's warm hands on his shoulders, keeping him upright.

"Alright, kid, you need to eat. C'mon, up," he said whilst taking Peter's hands in his to pull him to his feet. The teen was in too much misery to complain, letting the mechanic steer him wherever he wanted him to go, Peter heavily leaning against him so he wouldn't fall. He shuddered as his socked feet walked on icy stone, trying to take in his surroundings,

but his brain was too tired to say anything except that it looked hella cool.

Besides, hella cool was the understatement of the century.

Mr. Stark let him slump onto a barstool at a kitchen island, Peter immediately trying to curl up into a tight ball as he shivered, but his mentor threw a blanket over him before pushing a bowl of soup right under his nose.

"M'not hungry."

"Well, guess who doesn't care. Eat," he said, holding out a spoon for him to take with a raised eyebrow and honestly, Peter didn't think that he had any chance to resist because Mr. Stark looked like he would shove the soup down the teen's throat himself if he needed to.

So he ate in silence, but not without giving Mr. Stark the occasional mean eye, his stomach churning uncomfortably. He was 99,98% sure he would throw everything up later.

"Hey boys."

Peter spluttered, soup running down his chin as he coughed, his fist hitting his chest whilst his whole face turned beet red. He didn't dare looking up, too embarrassed to meet Miss Potts' gaze as a hysterically laughing Mr. Stark threw a napkin at him.

"Kid, I swear, you're killing me," he chuckled, face just as red as Peter's own, and for a second the teen was worried that the prominent vein on his mentor's forehead would burst from laughter.

He took a deep breath, his headache momentarily forgotten as he looked over at the woman who stood a few inches next to him, calmly leaning on the island.

"In case you don't know; I'm Pepper, nice meeting you."

Peter was pretty sure his face couldn't get more red than it already was whilst Mr. Stark was still quietly laughing on the other side of the island.

"Miss Potts, I am _so_ sorry, really, I- "

"There's nothing you need to apologize for, Peter, you've got a nasty fever there. Besides," She gently brushed his hair out of his face, her cool hand on his forehead making him close his eyes for a second. "Tony pulls weird stunts like that every day. Did you know that he peed in his suit right before he told me he loved me for the first time?"

The laughter stopped, Mr. Stark looking at his fiancée in utter betrayal. "How could you."

Peter couldn't help but feel better, chuckling softly despite his aching throat. "Really?" the teen asked, voice raspy and weak but he didn't care.

"Yes, really. To be fair, he was incredibly drunk."

"Ok, that's it, I don't like you two anymore."

Miss Potts softly ruffled his hair, Peter cringing at the thought that he was probably sweaty all over, though she didn't seem to mind. Instead, she moved next to Mr. Stark, playfully flicking his side.

"Don't do that, I'm mad," he pouted, giving Peter a stern look which basically screamed _eat your soup, squirt._

He didn't complain, smiling to himself as he took another spoonful, his chest feeling a lot lighter than before. The teen pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders. Damn, he was still cold.

"So, Peter," she said, ignoring Mr. Stark's foul mood which Peter found hilarious. Her smile was warm and loving, something Peter immediately liked about her just like her obvious talent to outwit Mr. Stark. Needless to say, Miss Potts wormed her way into his heart within seconds. "How do you feel? Tony was freaking out earlier."

"Was not."

"I'm fine." Another stern look from his mentor. "Uhm, fine-ish?" He quickly finished his soup, better safe than sorry, right?

"Thanks for the soup, Miss Potts."

"You're welcome." She took the bowl away, chuckling as Mr. Stark was still looking at her like she destroyed his life.

"I can't believe you told him. I can't even remember," he thought for a second, clicking his tongue. "It probably didn't happen, you made it up."

"I've still got the footage."

"I wanna see that!"

"Na-ah, no way, kid."

The teen pouted at that, crossing his arms so he could prop his head up. "But I already saw you propelling yourself face first into a wall as you tried to callibrate your repulsors."

"I want to ground him. Pep, can I ground him?"

"If one could just walk around and ground people, I would've grounded you a long time ago."

"But you can't ground _me_ , I'm Tony Stark."

Peter just sat there and listened to them bickering back and forth, a feeling of peacefulness spreading in his chest as he closed his eyes, his head propped up on his arms. Barely noticable trembles raked his body and he swore his teeth were chattering again, the teen trying to pull the blanket tighter around himself in order to preserve some heat. He could feel how his body tried to shut down again, the soup in his stomach not warming him up enough, instead making him way too sleepy for his own good. Gosh, he was so tired.

"Hey, kid, you good?"

He tried to nod, but his head felt like it was frozen in place and he couldn't move, shiver after shiver running down his spine.

"S'cold," he whispered, mind foggy and eyes searching for his mentor.

"You know what, scratch heating blankets," his mentor exclaimed, quickly planting a kiss onto his fiancée's cheek. "Have fun at that meeting, honey."

Peter couldn't hear her probably snarky answer because Mr. Stark has already wrapped an arm around him, leading him towards the living room with a giant sofa. The teen didn't quite get what was going on, his mentor muttering to himself under his breath whilst Peter was apparently too cold and exhausted to utilise his super hearing. The next thing he knew was that he got pushed onto the way too comfortable sofa, a thousand blankets and pillows thrown on top of him and a somewhat awkward looking Mr. Stark standing right in front of the couch.

"Okay, I've got this," the mechanic said to himself, and with that, the famous Tony Stark, ex-playboy, billionaire, genious and philanthropist sat down right next to him, burying both of them in blankets. Their shoulders were barely touching but the heat radiating off his mentor made Peter yearning for more, the blankets by far not being enough to warm him up.

"Uhm, Mr. Stark?" he started, turning his head in order to look at the tense man, trying not to chuckle as he saw the desperate and clueless face his mentor made.

“I know, I know, just- gimme a sec, will ya? Gosh, this is _so_ awkward, kid, why do you always have to do this stuff.”

“What stuff?” Peter tried to play innocent as his teeth started to chatter again, an intense shiver raking through him which pressed him even closer into Mr. Stark’s side.

“The cuddly stuff.”

“We never cuddle, Mr. Stark.”

_“Exactly.”_

The teen furrowed his brows in confusion at that because that right there made no sense whatsoever, no matter how he twisted and turned their conversation. “We never even hug. Like, ever. Except that one time where- “

“Yeah, okay, no need to open old wounds, Parker.”

They sat in an awkward silence, both of their arms crossed in front of their chest, staring out the window like they were watching the most captivating thing ever whilst being buried in a ridiculous amount of blankets.

Another violent shiver raked through the teen’s body.

“Okay, nope, this isn’t working.” Mr. Stark said and Peter was pretty sure that he would stand up and leave him to somehow warm up by himself as a heavy arm was stiffly draped around his shoulders.

It really was weird.

His mentor sighed, letting his head fall backwarts in a motion Peter would describe as _being done with life_ before gently pulling the teen snugly against his chest.

Peter swore to every deity he knew that he immediately melted at the sudden warmth that rushed through him, only hesitating for a second before his icy fingers clutched at his mentor's shirt right above his heart, face pressed against his neck. His whole body was engulfed in warmth, Mr. Stark's arms holding him securely, tightening with every content hum he made.

"Better?"

He nodded, two seconds away from actually purring like a cat as a calloused hand hesitantly started to untangle the knots in his curly hair, his eyes closing in contentment.

They stayed like that for a while, Peter dozing the whole time whilst Mr. Stark was either playing with his hair or kneading his neck and shoulders, making sure that the teen was as comfortable as possible. Peter continued to hum and sigh every few minutes, causing the man to chuckle.

"I'm sorry that you couldn’t reach me earlier. It's, uhm, the 16th. Not a good day, ya know?"

Even being only half awake, Peter got it, knowing full well what it was like to go through a day that was a normal one for everybody else except oneself. He wanted to tell him that he understood, that he knew what Mr. Stark was going through, but he also knew that the man wasn't keen on being pitied so he simply tightened his grip, glad that he could hide from the world in his mentor's arms even if it was just because he needed a human source of warmth and Mr. Stark was the only one available.

"S'alright, Mr. Stark. Though, you need to work on what you describe as an emergency."

 

* * *

 

It was way too late as Pepper Potts was able to pull her heels off her feet in the privacy of their home, a satisfied sigh leaving her lips at the feeling of finally being done for the day. She quietly sneaked into the kitchen, pouring herself a well deserved glass of red wine before making her way to the living room, keen on relaxing a bit before hopefully _joining_ Tony in their bed.

Her plan soon turned out to be impossible to fulfill as she spotted two rather familiar boys fast asleep on her favourite spot on the couch, a small smile appearing on her lips at the sight.

Peter was wearing one of Tony's ancient MIT sweaters, face hidden in the space between her fiancées neck and shoulder, his adorable curly hair sticking in every direction, moving ever so slighty with Tony's slow and even breaths. He had his arms securely wrapped around the kid, something he always did with either her or a random pillow whenever a miracle happened and he fell asleep before she made it home, but apparently his _intern_ from Queens was just as qualified for the job.

Especially on a day such as the 16th.

The sight warmed her heart, the CEO crossing her arms in front of her chest. "FRIDAY," she whispered, taking a well deserved sip from her wine. "Take a picture and send it to May Parker with the following message: _The boys are fine. Yours sincerely, Pepper Potts."_

"Certainly, Mrs. Stark."

She looked up to the ceiling at that, brows raised at the AI.

"My apologies. Boss hasn't told me to stop yet."

Pepper lovingly shook her head. "No, it's fine, I like it," she murmured, rather to herself than to the AI, taking one last look at the weird pair before quietly going up the stairs, unable to wipe the soft smile off her face. 

"Just don't tell him I said that."

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by me sitting on a train with a broken heater and freezing for literal hours ._.  
> Thanks for reading and have a nice evening!


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